The Animal & The Hunter: Wolverine vs Predator
by War Journalist
Summary: The globe-trotting Canadian superhero travels to South America, where he comes across a member of the galaxy's greatest predatory race. An animal against a hunter. Who's hunting whom?
1. Introductions

The Animal & The Hunter: Wolverine VS Predator

by War Journalist

_I do not assume ownership over any characters in this fan-fiction or any backgrounds given for them. This is a cross-over between the Marvel 616 Universe (copyright Marvel comics) and the _Predator_ movie series (copyright 20th Century Fox). This takes place after_ Alien Versus Predator _(also copyrigth 20th Century Fox) and before Wolverine discovers his origin. Enjoy and feel free to comment/rate. Criticism is always welcome. Thanks for reading._

Chapter 1: Introductions

He was a traveler. At least that's the best way he could describe himself. Never making ties to anyone anywhere. He preferred the forests, jungles, even wastelands. He liked his privacy, moving from place to place in solitude, alone with his thoughts. His past, or lack of, had made him strong, paranoid, & violent. He didn't know who he used to be, when he was born, if he had any family or friends, or if any of it was worth remembering. Charles Xavier once told him that the mind's instinctual reaction to traumatizing events is to erase them. So he spent his life roaming; hoping to recognize or be recognized; searching for a tie to his lost life.

If anyone asked he said his name was Logan; a name he had picked up on his travels. The experiments on him by Weapon X had erased his mind, but had given him an unbreakable adamantium skeleton and three claws in each hand. That much he knew. How he got involved was another matter entirely. All he had to go on was the dog tag around his neck. The claws were strange; alien to him at first. Unfamiliar intruders & tormentors inside his own body. Whenever he clenched his fists in anger, he felt the searing pain between his knuckles every time. At first he tried never to get angry for fear of the pain, but now he felt they were a part of him. His wounds always healed. Now he used them as he would any other limb. They & his temper had earned him his other name: Wolverine.

He usually stuck with Chuck & his troop, but never longer than a month or so at a time. It was too busy, and that Cyclops guy annoyed him. He had been through all of Canada and the whole U.S. But for all he knew, he'd been everywhere and Area 51 already. He had been to Japan & met a woman. He almost considered himself a womanizer, but she was different. He actually loved her. She stole his heart right out from between his adamantium ribcage. But until he was considered good enough for her, he traveled. He had been across Europe and back again, but this was his first casual trip to Central America.

* * *

He was a hunter. That's all he was raised to be; all his species was raised to be. Strong, intelligent, adaptive, fierce warriors. His world was a wasteland, which is why they were sent to other worlds with jungles, forests, and prey.

As he understood it, his race had always been, or at least been everywhere at all times. They were born to hunt. Those who survived kept doing so, but those who didn't were either forgotten or commended for lasting so long.

Eventually it just became endless training exercises. It was all protocol: arrive, gather information, take a trophy kill back to the home world, then re-assignment. All he had ever known was the hunt, and his arranged bride. He had passed the initiation against the black reptilians and their queen expertly. He had never really had a challenge since then.

He had worked his way up to an A-class lieutenant and received his disk, spear, cannons, and blades. He prided himself on his skill in face-to-face combat. He preferred a direct attack rather than a safe theatrical approach, but it was protocol, and he was bound to it. He knew the code: No innocents, no impaired, no infants, & no traces.

A certain world had been a consistent annoyance to the pride of his race, which he fought for on a constant basis. He had worked many years for a chance to go to this planet and conquer it.


	2. Arrival

Chapter 2

Arrival

Logan had mixed feelings about Mexico. On one hand the people were nice and the government wasn't too restrictive on mutants. But on the other hand it was so damn _hot_. He had lived in Canada all his life and had become one with the cold, and the heat pissed him off. But there was a lot of desert, which gave him a lot of time to himself.

After passing through Mexico he made it to South America. The heat was replaced by humidity, which he didn't mind as much. He wandered through the jungle with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffel bag filled with personal items. He traveled at a leisurely pace, so he could see what the jungle had to offer. He found a panther hiding in the bushes at one point. Stupid animal didn't know who it was messing with, so he let it go. A few others weren't as lucky. By his third day he had accumulated a few jaguar claws and several crocodile teeth from a bit of trouble going down the river.

He passed a few primitive villages as he went. Each accepted him peacefully as just a passerby. When he told, or motioned rather, where he was going, each village became more superstitious. Telling him stories about mysterious jungle spirits. Until now he had paid them no mind. He had arrived in a village that offered him food, shelter, and some fresh clothing for a few simple services. They were even a bit modernized. There was a villager who had a satellite phone, and a few battery-powered appliances here and there.

Normally he liked the quiet, but the quiet in the village was an uneasy one. He could almost see the tension in the air and it made him nervous. And being nervous pissed him off. Every little chore people had asked of him dealt with going into the jungle. He finally snapped on someone who wanted some fresh firewood. She told him about disappearances that had been happening lately. People would go into the jungle on a simple errand and never come back. Twelve people had disappearing before everyone just stopped leaving. Logan was a loner, but he'd always had a soft spot for oppressed people. The thought of people being too scared to leave their homes made him angry.

When he left, he left his bag there, saying he'd be back for it. The woman didn't believe him but agreed to keep it anyhow. Now here he was; on a ridge overlooking the jungle, not far from the little town. He was wearing a pair of brown steel-toed boots and a pair of light blue jeans. He hated the heat, but he hated shorts and sandals more. His torso sported a plain white tank top under a light brown leather jacket. Again, the heat pissed him off, but it was his favorite jacket. It was the only gift he'd ever received. The kids at Charles's school had bought it for him. He pretended not to care at the time, but he always wore it whenever he went out. On his head he had a bright tan cowboy hat, which he had bartered from a villager for a jungle boar.

As he looked over the ridge into the large valley where everyone had disappeared, something primal took him over. He unleashed a long, loud howl, fitting of his animal namesake. The sound echoed over the valley, warning the creatures of his arrival. A lot of things in this world pissed him off, but very few things got him worked up the way he was. One was the killing of innocents. The other, the chance for a fight. As anxious as he was, he climbed down the ridge slowly. He wanted to give whatever-it-was plenty of time. He thought it would need it.

* * *

He had been in the jungle for just over twenty solar cycles. His arrival had been perfect; no navigational malfunctions, no damage to the ship, and no witnesses. Since his arrival he had done much. He had discovered and destroyed his predecessor's ship. It had been hidden in the jungle for twenty of the planets years, but their technology was such that its power supply never needed replenishing.

He had used the ships self-destruct system, setting it to implode, rather than draw attention with an explosion. He discovered the aftermath of his predecessor's self-destruct bomb. He also carried one as standard equipment so as to leave no trace if he was defeated. He didn't believe in using the devices; firstly because he believed in a preserving a good fight, rather than pretending it never happened. Secondly, it felt a sign of weakness to him. When he landed he usually took it off and stored it in his ship, but he had tried very hard to get to this planet and preferred to be prepared.

He had found files his predecessor had left. He described the inhabitants of this planet as violent and clever, but physically inferior. His lack of recent entries and the blast crater were enough evidence to assume that the previous warrior had been defeated. He had hunted, examined, and sampled the wildlife of the jungle, which had proven easy enough.

While he was hunting during the mid-time of the solar cycle, he had followed a large feline to a resting spot. As he was approaching, a feral cry echoed across the jungle valley, causing the feline to escape his blades. He was furious. He recorded the strange cry and played it again and again until he had memorized it. He searched his predecessor's audio files and found a similar sound, realizing that it signified a challenge by the planets dominant inhabitants. As he read this, he became excited. It would be his first real encounter with an inhabitant other than those it had recently been studying. Their physical make-up proved interesting, but a poor food source, and an even poorer trophy.

He was now heading toward the cry's origin; the base of a cliff where he had captured other beings. He leapt through the trees at an incredible pace; excited to finally meet a challenge. He didn't use the ground so as not to leave tracks. Being only a reconnaissance mission he brought only his spear, the least likely weapon to kill. He preferred to examine the adversary before engaging it. He also decided he may leave a trace of himself to inform the being of his existence if he felt it deserved it. It would need all the warning it could get either way.


	3. Nightfall, First Meetings

Chapter 3 

Nightfall; First Meetings

Logan had made his way through the valley about a mile from the center. He had made the tireless trek slowly despite his anticipation. He wanted everything to play out nice and neat. He had explored the terrain, getting a feel for his surroundings. He sniffed every scent and became familiar with it. He built up a small fire in a clearing. As strong as he was and as sharp as his senses were, he wasn't stupid enough to sleep in the dark. He had decided that he wouldn't eat that night. He didn't know how long he'd be out there and decided it was better to let a pig live if he was going back tomorrow.

He lay on his back against a rock. The fire burned at half power in front of him. He had his hat over his eyes and his hands behind his head. Any passerby would've mistaken him for a sleeping cowboy. But he had lain awake many nights with his eyes closed, his ears open, and his fists clenched. If anything came within twenty feet of him, he'd be ready. He listened to the fire crackle, fully aware that it was the only sound being made by the jungle. All the birds, bugs, animals: silent. He was tense, and that's how he liked it.

* * *

He flew silently from tree to tree, landing only long enough to push himself forward again. He had used his night vision to scan the area at first, but the jungle was too humid for any proper identification. One of the felines had gotten close enough to attack before he knew it. The feline's claws and teeth now adorned his necklace. He decided to use infrared vision at all times.

He had left all his tools behind except for his spear. He even took a chance that even he now thought was pompous; he had left his stealth tech behind. It was dark, and if worst came to worst he would confront the being, but not kill it. He would decide if it was worth all or none of his weapons.

His infrared vision told him that he was approaching a heat source less than 100 feet away. He kept moving, but more slowly now. Stealthily. Cautiously even. He came to a small clearing. He dared not enter it, but stayed covered by the trees. He immediately saw the being, apparently resting.

* * *

Logan had been keeping himself awake by opening his eyes and staring at the fire through his hat every now and then. He guessed that the time was almost one in the morning, so he decided to go to sleep. Just as he had closed his eyes and relaxed, he heard a faint thud.

Anyone without his hearing wouldn't have caught it. He tensed, but did not move. He took a long, quiet sniff to test the air. He picked out the scent of the burning fire, the faint scent the trees gave off in this heat, and even the smell of his own sweat. He reached the smell of rotting meat; a fresh kill. The scent of blood had been covered by some kind of chemical, but he could still smell it.

The blood was mixed with something else. Something he hadn't smelled before. It was strange, but he felt something familiar about the scent, even though he'd never encountered anything like it. No animal, no mineral, no chemical he could think of smelled like that. The thought of something new excited him as he lay there under his hat with his hands innocently placed behind his head. His right leg lay flat while his left knee was in the air. He felt awkward, almost like a fool. He expected the problem to be just a stupid tiger with too much pride, or maybe even an extra-large snake with an attitude. He realized that he had no idea what he was up against. And he liked it.

* * *

He sat there in the tree silently. Waiting for the being to move, or show any sign of life other than a heat signature. He surveyed the area, seeing no traps or riggings of any kind. He would've chuckled to himself, thinking how silly the being must be if it had made an open challenge and not prepared for it. He would have, if the being had not moved.

* * *

Logan decided on three things. Number one was that something was definitely watching him. Number two was that whatever it was wasn't going to make a move until he did, and he was getting anxious. Number three was that the fire was dying.

It took every bit of sleep-deprived courage he had to stand up. He did it quickly, to perhaps startle his stalker into moving. His eyes moved quickly around under his hat without turning his head. He walked over to the kindling pile he had made, and pushed the whole of it into the fire. Then he heard it.

* * *

He had involuntarily moved, and he cursed himself for it. He had set his spear down, and it fell off the branch. He had to reach to stop it from hitting the ground. He found himself sweating as his quarry seemed to pay him no mind. The creature merely laid down in the same way it had before, but this time it's hands were not behind it's back. They were clenched into fists with palms facing up.

He thought to himself how stupid he was being. The creature had shown no more physical ability than walking around, and didn't even do that with a fair amount of consciousness. He placed his spear in his belt, blaming himself for not doing so earlier to avoid the slip. He grabbed the tree, and quietly moved to the right, away from the being so as to come alongside it. He knew the only way he would get a reaction would be to make his presence obvious.

* * *

Logan's sense of smell kept working. He followed the creature's path along the trees with his nose. He had placed his fists palm up for a reason. As quietly and as slowly as he could, he had extended his claws into the soft dirt, letting the forest foliage mask the faint smell of the blood coming from between his knuckles. He was ready.

* * *

He had perfectly positioned himself directly behind the rock the creature was laying against, while retaining his position in the trees, He decided it was time to go down. He slowly made his way down the tree trunk, keeping his movements at an even pace. Curiosity drove him as much as his eagerness for a challenge did.

It was his first mission all over again. Slowly approaching a seemingly dead reptilian. Of course they had long tails and their blood made wounds dangerous. But the reptilians were naturally restless, and only time was needed to determine their state. He approached then as he did now. He didn't know his prey's habits then.

His landing made almost no sound. He moved across the distance from the tree to the rock slowly, trying his best to avoid the foliage that could give him away. It was then that he realized that he should have extended his spear before falling into the clearing. At this range the sound of the sliding metal would give him away. But he removed the spear from his belt and held it at the ready. He bent down and touched the rock for balance.

* * *

Logan was getting restless to the point of insanity. He knew his stalker was on the other side of his rock, and that it had the jump on him. At this range neither his smell nor his hearing could distinguish position other than _close_. He kept his eyes closed despite his excitement. It took every iota of concentration he could muster to keep from moving. He felt the thing right next to him, but something was wrong; he didn't hear any breathing. That was too much. He snapped.

* * *

He was close enough to touch the creature. This was it. The moment left as soon as it had come. The beast moved surprisingly fast, like a flash it was on it's feet staring at him. But he himself was just as fast. He held one hand out with the spear back, forgetting that it wasn't extended.

As he and they stared at each other, he noticed something. Something that he wasn't expecting, it surprised him almost. The creature had claws. He knew from the description that his predecessor had left that the beings used their hands the way they did, and could even climb the way they did. They were structurally similar in many ways. But this one had claws. Not like the small claws he had pulled from the feline earlier, not like any other being categorized on this planet. They were long, about 10 inches from tip to hand. Three on each hand. The creature was hunching, seemingly preparing to leap. He extended his spear and stood strong.

* * *

Logan didn't know what the hell he was staring at. It looked almost like a man, but it was a hell of a lot bigger than any man he'd seen besides the Juggernaut and the Hulk. It's skin was a sickly yellow-green color, and it's hands were webbed claws. A metal mask covered it's face, but it had what looked like dreadlocks hanging from the sides of it's head. He couldn't see it's lower body because it was hidden by the rock.

The monster had netting covering it's bare skin, connecting shoulder pads to a dual chest plate, to what looked like a loincloth. Around it's neck it had a necklace with what he guessed were cat claws. That was the blood he was smelling. From what he could tell he was fighting Tarzan's ugly cousin. It's arm was tilted back holding something like a spear. Before his eyes the monster's arm tensed and the spear extended to twice it's size. It looked strong. Probably stronger than he was. The two stood there, just staring for what seemed like an hour.

Logan took a chance and made the first move. He stepped to his left, and the monster stepped to it's left. He kept moving, creating a circle around the rock. He stopped as he felt another slanted rock behind his boot. The beast stopped as well. He leaned his weight on the rock and vaulted forward with a yell. His clawed hands instinctively moved in front of him as he flew through the air.

* * *

He was startled; the beast had leapt at him with no warning. He was frozen for a second before training kicked in and he dodged the creature's lunge. But not without taking a hit himself. As he distanced himself from the recovering being, he felt his warm blood running down his side. He looked down for a second, and noticed that the beast had cut though the weaker piece of his chest plate. Could it have known? Did it anticipate his reaction and how to counter it? He didn't know. But the wound infuriated him.

He threw his extended spear at the vile creature. It was already back up by the time he had done this and attempted to knock it away with it's claws. But the beast over-swung the attempt and missed the spears flight path. It caught the animal through the shoulder, knocking it down.

It didn't move for a moment. He felt disappointed, that such a great tension had lead to such a simple climax. He chuckled to himself and approached. As he did he noticed that his spear hadn't gone too far into the beast, so he slowed his approach, knowing that this creature could be patient.

* * *

Logan felt like a complete moron. He had struck out on an easy pitch and taken it in the shoulder. He noticed the blood he had drawn off the thing and was a little shocked at the color, but satisfied that he had done something.

He lay on the ground motionless. The pain didn't bother him so much, but he was waiting for his healing factor to kick in. The spear had collided with the adamantium in his shoulder and stopped, but it still hurt. This thing was made of strong stuff. And this monster was as strong as he thought.

He heard the monster approach him. Again, he didn't move or open his eyes. He would wait and get this sucker back. His claws were still extended, and that was a good thing. It saved him the pain and motion of pulling them out again.

* * *

He came right up the motionless beast. It seemed to be either dead or knocked out. He grabbed the spear to remove it, but noticed that there was almost no blood in the wound.

* * *

Logan felt the spear wiggle and used his arm to trip the monster that was standing over him. It lost it's balance and fell to the ground while Logan had leapt to his feet and backed away.

He grabbed the spear with both hands and pulled. It hurt like hell. There was a lot more blood as it came out than there was going in, when he noticed that the spearhead was barbed. He threw it to the ground and bared his claws to the now standing monster.

"Is that all you got, bub?"

* * *

This creature was becoming more and more interesting. He watched as the wound his spear had made vanished in merely a few seconds. He had not aimed to kill, but did not expect such a swift recovery.

He heard the beast's comment and recorded it. He didn't know its meaning but assumed that it was an insult & a challenge. He was without his spear, and thusly no weapons. But he merely stood there, hoping to draw the creature into action as he had before.

He repeated it's challenge with his own voice. "Is…that…all…you…got…bub." It seemed to infuriate the creature, but it did not move. He normally would have charged, but seeing the damage it could do to him was enough to convince him otherwise. The heat from the fire was irritating his legs. Then he got an idea.

* * *

Logan stood there tensed, staring at the monster. His hat had fallen off in the struggle, revealing his black hair, brushed backward the way he always wore it.

It repeated his words back to him like some kind of recorder. The monster suddenly made a loud roar. He was startled at first by the sheer volume of it, but realized that it was the sound he had made on the ridge.

The monster had used his opportunity to reach down into the fire and pull out one of the larger sticks. It was on fire, and surprisingly pointed. The monster charged forward, the echo of the roar still rippling through the jungle. Not being one to turn down a challenge, he ran forward as well, claws at either side of his head. With a well-timed slash he cut the stick into pieces.

* * *

Now it was his turn to be clever. As the creature cut his torch into pieces, he leaped over the animal's shoulders with ease. He landed on his haunches and picked up his spear, holding it in front of him. By this time he knew he had gotten more than he had expected out of the life form.

The creature, infuriated over being duped so easily, savagely attacked him. It swung left and right with it's claws, he barely being able to push them aside with his spear. He had had enough. It was time to go.

It slashed and he parried over and over again until it saw through his pattern and got a few inches into his stomach with it's claws before he used the spear to stop it's hand. He pushed it's hand away and spun the spear over his head before giving a final stab. It missed the creature, but struck straight through it's brown torso garment. He grabbed the back of the creature's neck and spun the spear to push his adversary behind him and he made a beeline for the trees. He leapt into them and began quickly making his way through the jungle, leaving his foe behind.

* * *

As Logan hit the ground face first he barely had time to register that he had dodged the bastard's spear. He heard it's footsteps now behind him as it ran away. "Oh no you don't." He rose to his feet quickly and turned after it. It made an incredible leap into the trees. He had seen better. He followed it as fast and best he could. He heard it pulling ahead of him through the trees as he ran. The scent was growing fainter, and he was growing angrier.

After about ten minutes of running, the scent disappeared. He stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily. He sniffed desperately at the air to find the scent. When he didn't, he let out another savage cry that echoed through the jungle. When he was sure that he couldn't follow his enemy, he retracted his claws and followed his own scent back to his camp.

As he arrived back at his camp, he discovered that his fire had burned down to embers. His hat had been trampled by the chase, and to cap it all off, his jacket was ruined. The bastard's claws had shredded the neck and back, and the spear ruined the bottom and shoulder. It was barely hanging off of him. He once again unsheathed his claws and sliced up the rock in a fit of rage. He took off his jacket and laid it in the burning embers along with the hat. He thought it at least deserved a fitting burial. It produced little light, but enough to keep away the animals, as if his cries of rage hadn't already.

He climbed a tree and lay in its braches, making sure there were no snakes or cats. He lay in the tree, trying to sleep, thinking about the hunt only hours away, and what he would do to that son of a bitch when he caught him. He would show him what he does, and why there was no one better.

* * *

As he practically flew through the trees back to his ship, he cursed himself for being so careless. He should have at least kept his adaptive camouflage tech. He also felt ashamed that he was so easily hurt by such a primitive being.

He came upon his ship. The door instantly closed and the lights activated. His ship was small and much more difficult to find in the jungle. It had everything he needed for his time here: A sleep chamber, trophy room, file computer, lab, and medical room. He threw his spear to the floor and walked to the medical room.

His natural healing factor was already working to heal his wounds, but the probability of infection was high in this humid jungle. The diseases in this planet had not yet been categorized. As he spread his medical jelly across his wounds, he again cursed himself for his stupidity. He looked into his mirror, realizing that he had not yet taken off his mask.

After he finished applying the jelly, he removed each air tube, and then removed his mask. As he looked upon himself, he smashed the mirror in a fit of rage. He had worked so hard to get to this planet to mend the pride of his race. And here he was; wounded by the only inhabitant who had fought him. He stalked out of the room, the jelly quickly assimilating to his wounds, sealing them. He placed his mask and breathing converter on its rightful pedestal next to his weapons. He pulled his disks and blaster from their racks and placed them next to his mask. He would be ready next time. He would be prepared.

He had killed many beings from this pitiful ball, and this one would be his prize. He turned to access his sleep chamber, but noticed his spear on the ground. He examined it, as it had scratches in it. How was this possible? Their weapons were made of some of the most durable and light minerals the universe had to offer. He headed into his lab to examine the chemicals in the scratch marks.


	4. The Morning After

Chapter 4: The Morning After

Logan had barely slept. He had tossed and turned in the uncomfortable tree. He usually had no trouble sleeping, especially in the field. It was a proper bed he was nervous in. He had stayed up all night, studying the blood the monster had left after he cut it. It was bright green, and had almost no scent. It smelled almost like water; a base liquid.

He trekked through the jungle for a while until he found a stream. Even if it wasn't clean, his immune system would kill anything undesirable. He had taken a few drinks and washed up before he noticed a small pooling of blood. Human blood. Curious, he followed it along the stream to its origin.

He followed the scent of rotting meat; a smell he was not unfamiliar with. He eventually came to a tree hanging over the river. He crashed through the underbrush, hoping to save someone if they were still alive. The humidity and moss made the tree almost impossible to climb, so he popped his claws and used them to claw his way up. He reached the top, where the branches hid the bleeding thing. He pulled back the tree branch to see something disgusting even by his standards.

The sun had just risen, revealing three people skinned, revealing just blood, bone, and muscle. After a moment of gagging, he inspected the corpses. One had it's chest broken open, revealing lungs and a missing heart. Another had it's muscles torn apart, as if the killer had been examining them. The final one had it's spinal column ripped out. Along with the skull. The blood was still dripping from the throat. The other bodies' blood had dried up on the branches.

He had never seen anything so heartless and disgustingly scientific. At least not from this side of the operation. He thought about his own skeleton, covered in adamantium. For once in a long time, he felt glad that he had it.

* * *

He had taken a few trophies while on the planet. One of the better feline specimens. A hairy, squealing beast with small tusks. And the other was the skull of one of the humans it had killed. It was unimpressive, but completed the collection.

He had slept for as long as he could. He had discovered the scratch marks were made by adamantium; the same material as his spear, only much denser. This baffled him. How could these primitive beings have access to their technology? His armor and weapons were made with a less dense formula of adamantium to allow for easier movement. There was only one stronger element in all of known space; vibranium. But the element was so rare that only the greatest of his kind were given it. He would have to make due. The fact that it only scratched the spear rather than shredding it meant that the density only differed slightly.

He would hunt today, but only for his prey. Nothing else mattered. He had fulfilled his duty and retrieved his predecessor's information. Now all that kept him from leaving was the hunt. He equipped himself with every weapon he had. It was more than an acceptable challenge. When he left his ship, the local star had just begun it's solar cycle.


	5. Round Two

Chapter 5: Round Two

By noon Logan had cut the three men down and buried them. He put his hands into his pants pockets. He remembered that he had a case of cigars with him. "Well, if there was ever a time…" He pulled one out and groped his other pockets for a lighter. He suddenly remembered that he had left his lighter in his bag at the village. "Shit." He placed the cigar back in its case in his pocket.

He leapt and ran his way back to his campsite. He needed to get his heart going if he was going to hunt. He hadn't actually hunted anything in quite a while. Sure he had tracked, but it had been a hell of a long time since he'd hunted something that could hunt him back, and be a legitimate threat.

He remembered the first time he hunted after the Weapon X ordeal. It was dark. He was nervous. It was a long time ago. He had been tracking something up in the frozen Canadian North. He had tracked some kind of beast quite a ways. As he passed a ridge, he smelled the beast before it tackled him to the ground. The claws hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but even then he could heal fast. It was a goddamn Siberian tiger! He couldn't believe it. A tiger in Canada.

He was nervous and hesitant, so it got quite a beating on him before he accidentally sliced it's chest open. He was blinded with fear or rage. Even now he didn't know which. He didn't really want to hurt it. It had just eaten a few animals. It wasn't a man-eater. After he got back it turned out that a traveling circus had lost a tiger, and were offering top dollar for it. He spent a day drinking the local bar dry.

But this time it wouldn't be by accident. That sick son of a bitch was going to get a full helping of adamantium through every surface it had. It had killed innocents just to see what they looked like inside. He didn't know exactly what he would do to it, but he knew it wouldn't be breathing when he walked away.

He arrived back at his camp site. The clothes he had burned the night before were one with the wood ash, which was no longer alight. "Let's spruce up this place." He pulled several branches off a few trees and used his claws to cut them sharp. He climbed the trees and pulled out all the strong vines.

By 3-o-clock he had circled his camp with spike traps, swinging logs, and a few deer snares set to pick up cars. He would wait for the bastard to come to him again later that night. When he did, he wouldn't get away. As he worked, he thought about what drove him. Why was he doing this? Why was he working so hard to kill this thing? Playing protector for a remote village in Brazil wasn't his job. It just came down to a primal feeling. He needed to hunt this thing; kill it. All the déjà vu was beginning to piss him off. And a name kept popping into his head. Dutch. Dutch. Over and over again. By 6-o-clock he finished preparing the camp site. Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

He stayed in a small clearing near a stream and his ship. He didn't want to hunt just yet. He needed to prepare, focus. He spun and jabbed with his spear, repeating the motions again and again. He sharpened his blades on a piece of rock. He practiced with these as well, turning and stabbing, learning to weave and cleave again. He wanted to be in top form for this one. He practiced throwing both his disk and fly-blades, cutting trees down, tearing rock apart. He even got in some target practice with his cannon. He didn't think he'd need it, but this foe was unpredictable, and he would take it's head one way or the other.

Only by defeating this thing would his people regain their honor and rightful place as the greatest hunters in the universe. His mind wandered back to the previous hunter. Was he slain by the same beast? Could this being possibly have been waiting for him? Even if it was, he would give it a good fight. To hell with honor. He had already killed more than an exploratory share of humans, of course he would never tell the High Council. All he needed was to kill it. Make the planet fear his race again.

He didn't go straight back to the beast's campsite this time. He circled it slowly getting closer. Setting a trap here and there, but mainly trying to find his prey's traps, if it had set any. By nightfall he had made his final descent on his foe's camp. As he approached the tree line, he began feeling confident. He had not seen _one_ early warning system.

The fire was lit again. He had turned on his active camouflage, and was confident that he would not be seen by his foe. He scanned the jungle floor, but found no sign of his prey. He kept his spear in reserve. He would kill it with the weapon it had dishonored. He slowly extended his invisible blades to mid range. He would take his prey back no matter what.

* * *

Logan had been clever. He had left no prints on the ground, left nothing for it to track, and he had stripped down to just his pants to keep from sweating. He kept his position silently. Even he barely knew he was there. He was glad the trees here were so strong. If not he wouldn't have been able to gain his perfect position hidden high above his campsite. He was sitting straight against the tree with his arms folded under his armpits, letting his claws support him. Hitting the ground wasn't the problem. His adamantium would absorb the shock. But if it got here and he slipped he would be a sitting duck.

He barely kept his eyes open, so as to see it if it arrived, which it did. He heard it approach. It still didn't know about his hearing. He thought his eyes had deceived him. All he saw was moving nothing. He had seen this kind of thing before with A.I.M. & H.Y.D.R.A. agents. Only the best had it, but he had beat them all. Well, it wasn't the only genius here. He had covered himself in mud from the stream to blend in with the tree. It was quite a ways below him on the opposite side of the camp, the same way it had come before. He knew it's base must be in that direction. He saw what he guessed was it's head turn from side to side. It hadn't found him.

He had been in his position for an hour. His immune system prevented even his own body from releasing those chemicals that made normal people tired and stiff. He thought he saw it's arm extend. It baffled him, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the only one with claws. It disappeared back into the trees. He knew it wasn't retreating. After the beating he gave it last night, he knew it wouldn't run away. He saw it re-emerge from the trees on the ground, walking slowly. He almost lost sight of it when it kept stopping. It moved in a circle barely rimming around the campsite. It was looking for him. He was getting impatient, one of his many vices. It moved directly beneath him, and he released his claws from the tree.

He felt restless. Something wasn't right. It had arrived here too easily. And his prey was nowhere to be found. He noticed something in the fire. They looked like pieces of clothing. They had been worn by the beast. He approached the fire, and was suddenly smashed to the ground. He rolled over and righted himself quickly. He was staring face to face with his quarry. It had it's back bent in an offensive pose, ready to strike again. It had covered itself with the mixture of soil and water from the stream to hide itself from his infrared. Fortunately, its brown coat had hardened, cracked, and broken off as it fell to the ground. He could see enough of it to aim and fire it's plasma cannon. It rolled to his right to avoid it, but he fired another round which it leapt out of the way of again. It attempted to hide behind the rock, but he fired another blast into the stone. It shattered the stone. He tried to fire again. But something was wrong. The cannon didn't respond. It sparked, so he quickly removed it. The creature had apparently disabled it when it tackled him.

The creature was charging him now. He threw both his disk and fly-blades at it, but it used it's claws to deflect them. It then slashed him across the chest twice. He had dodged the first, but the second caught him off-guard. It cut right through his left chest plate. He released a hard punch to the beast's gut, which made it double over. He heard his weapons returning to him, so he grabbed the beast by it's shoulders, restricting it's arm movement. It managed to get one claw about an inch into his gut before the blades stuck it in the back. It roared with pain. He expected it to drop down dead, but it was only infuriated. It released itself from his grip and landed on the ground. Each blade had claimed a shoulder, but they should have cut cleanly through it! It used it's claws to slice his disk in half before the other half fell out of it's back. How could it do that?! How could it's limbs survive such laceration? It grabbed his fly-blade, pulled it out of it's back, and thrown it at him in one fluid motion.

* * *

That son of a bitch! Those things it threw must have come back and got him in the back. He was being stupid and impulsive, leaping down rather than waiting for a trap to go off. He cursed himself for it as he pulled some kind of bladed boomerang out of his back. He threw it back at the bastard. It caught it. It caught it! The blades retracted in his hand. Damn. Then it threw it back at him, but he was ready. He held his claws to his face and cut it. Sparks flew like a remote-controlled plane shorting out. It fell to the ground like a toy.

As he looked at the wrecked blades, a rock slammed into his chest, forcing him backward. He saw the monster picking up another rock to throw at him. He had set up vine traps everywhere so he could use them when he needed to. He grabbed for the nearest one. "That's it. CATCH THIS!" He pulled the vine, which caused a tree truck suspended by vines to fly into the monsters chest from above. It flew backward into the trees. He immediately removed and destroyed the other disc from his back, and chased his foe down. He leapt onto the log and jumped off it for a burst of speed. He saw that it's camouflage had been knocked out by the impact of the tree. As he approached the slowly-rising monster he jumped into the air and came down stabbing it through the chest with one claw, but it's hand had come up and stopped the other. It pinched his wrist before grabbing his other hand and lifting his claws out. He pinched the other wrist too. His hands felt numb. He freed them and tried to stab it again in the chest, but he punched it instead. It must've forced his claws back in with that pinch.

He punched again and again, not really phasing it. It grabbed his throat with one hand, choking him. It looked at his dog tags around his neck, and took them with it's other hand. It then threw him off of it, got up, and began running away. He quickly stood up again and followed it's trail of blood. He had hurt it. Good. Now he was going to kill it. He chased it madly through the trees.


	6. Vengeful Pursuit

Chapter 6: Vengeful Pursuit

That damned creature! It had destroyed all of his weapons! Although he had to give it credit for the tree trap. He could not deny it that. He knew it was chasing him down, and didn't think he had time to climb a tree. Those claws had cut straight through his chest plate! It clearly had more strength that he had calculated. His cannon was gone, and both of his bladed disks were ruined.

As he ran, he tried to re-activate his camouflage. The screen on his arm told him that it needed to recharge. Damn! But he still had his spear and his arm blades. He couldn't outrun it much longer, so he quickly ran to the right behind a thick tree and stopped, hiding behind it. He heard the clumsy beast crashing through the brush after him. He heard it's hard breathing getting closer. At that moment, he actually felt something. It was… fear. What? How could he fear such an inferior creature? All it had were claws. He could easily overpower it with his strength.

As his fear subsided he waited until the breathing came right up behind him before spreading his arm out from behind the tree, knocking the beast off it's feet. He took advantage of it's weakness by grabbing it by it's arm and shoulder and tossing it into a tree. He knew it could take more, so he kicked it hard in the ribs, causing it to roll a few feet into a rock. His boot had absorbed most of the impact, but this one's bones were much stronger than those of his previous victims.

He leapt on top of it, standing on it's back as it roared in pain. Weakling, he thought. With unexpected effort, he lifted it above his head. This one was also heavier than the others. Such a curious being. He threw it once again into a tree. But it slowly stood back up! He had never faced a being from this planet that could take such punishment. It lurched forward and punched him in the stomach; barely effective. It tried to punch him in the face, but he grabbed it's arm and pulled it's head down, straight into his outgoing elbow. He twisted the arm until he heard it pop out of it's socket, and kicked it backward into a rock. Afterward he noticed that the creature had stopped moving. He knew it wasn't dead. He could see it's heart rate with the scanner in his helmet. He would climb the trees. He needed to get back to his ship and heal his wounds. And hopefully he could find some better armor. He leapt off the creature into a tree, and began jumping from branch to branch back to his ship.

* * *

Logan was getting tired of being kicked around. Literally. This thing was a lot stronger than he thought it was, but the monster had only dislocated his shoulder. His bones couldn't be broken because of his adamantium. Logan sat up against a rock as he came to. With a painful jerk, he popped his arm back into it's socket. It hurt like hell. As far as Logan was concerned, he was in hell. He was tired, sweaty, his shoulder hurt like a bitch, his ribs practically screamed, and to top it off he didn't have any fucking matches for a cigar.

It was time to end this. He would track this son of a bitch back to where it lived. Judging from all the bright green blood left behind, he had done a bang-up job on the thing. He had to start fighting smarter. Running head-on into battle was definitely not the way to fight this thing. But surprise and stealth were pretty difficult with his impatient nature. He had to calm down a bit. His claws had retracted when he blacked out. He held his chest to control his breathing when he realized; the bastard took his dog tag. The only thing that linked him to his past was that damn chain and now that thing had it.

He could smell the blood coming off the sucker. The scent was always stronger the fresher it was. He followed a small stream of blood up into a tree. He knew that if he was going to be able to follow it, he would have to use the trees. He leapt from one to the next, which was easy since the jungle canopy was so thick. So on he went, getting faster and faster as he got used to it. He was soon speeding across the trees, letting the scent of the strange blood guide him.

* * *

He had arrived back at the ship. He had done so quickly so he could return to the field as soon as possible. He had greatly underestimated this beast. It was far more agile than he had anticipated. He knew those claws were too powerful for any of his weapons except his spear. He did not have the resources to forge denser weaponry, so he was tearing his armory apart, trying to find something that could stop it. As far as he saw, he had nothing left. Just his blades, spear, and bomb. His active camouflage was almost recharged, but that seemingly did not help him. It must have some extra sense.

He would fight it, kill it, and take it's frame back to the home world. He could see it now. Not only would he restore his race's honor, but he had conquered a being unheard of by his people. He fashioned a sling for his bomb to fit on his back. He put his spear in the same sling for easy access. He placed one set of blades on each arm. He would fight it on it's terms.

He had retrieved it's necklace that it wore. It was a simple metal, and it had markings on it. He assumed that they were the planets language. It was dark silver, the color of his armor. It wasn't brightly colored like the necklaces he had taken from other humans. He concluded that this necklace was something personal to it. He placed it around his neck.


	7. Final Approach

Chapter 7: Final Approach

Logan had been leaping through the trees for about an hour. He had become quite fast, and the scent of blood was growing stronger. He had nothing left to lose. All that mattered now was killing this thing. Not even to save the village, but now it was personal. Not only did he have to get his tag back, but the nagging in the back of his head was getting stronger. Dutch…Dutch…Dutch... The connection between this thing and that name was driving him insane. Had he known someone in his past life? Had Logan fought this thing before and it was codenamed Dutch? What was the connection?

He finally came to a clearing where the bloody stink was the strongest. There were no more branches to climb on, nor trees to hang from. Just an open grassy plain. The bloody path stopped as well. As if it had just flown away from this spot. It was impossible. He was about to jump down and scavenge the area, but he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Something moved, or didn't. He looked again, focusing on certain points while moving his vision. He finally spotted it. It was about as big as a motor-home and it was camouflaged the way the monster had been. He had found the son of a bitch.

He took stock of himself. His cuts and bruises had healed. His ribs had stopped hurting and his arm wasn't really sore anymore. He leapt down from the tree. Some of that sneaking ability would really be appreciated right now. He kept his claws in and tried not to get overexcited as he slunk through the tall grass towards his target. He could only focus on what was waiting for him.

Was it there in the open waiting for him? No, it was sneakier than that. For all he knew that thing he saw was a giant robot. He'd handled sentinels before and gleefully too, but he had no idea what he was walking into. So he kept moving cautiously and slowly.

* * *

He was armored and ready. As ready as he'd ever be. He had his emergency set of armor on, he had his spear with him, his blades were sharp and ready, and his bomb was strapped to his back.

He decided to meditate before he stepped out of the ship. His people were notorious for their temper. It gave them great respect and fear throughout the universe, but it was a double-edged sword. The Frenzy made them much stronger and faster, but also irresponsible and dangerous even to each other. He knew that this beast could not be approached without caution or focus. The Frenzy would rob him of both. So he sat there with is legs crossed. His mind focused on the glory he would receive upon his return. He thought of his mate waiting for him. He thought about the hate he felt for this creature. But he found he also respected it. He had drawn little blood from the creature, and not deterred it's fighting spirit. For half of a second, he even thought it almost worthy of being a member of his race. But no. It was a human; naturally inferior. And it would die before the next solar cycle. He was sure of it.

But even he could not deny the thought of defeat lingering in the back of his head, which is why he carried his bomb. He never even thought of using it on any other hunt. But this was different. He knew with absolute certainty that this would be his greatest battle. He stood up and moved toward the ships control panel. He set the ship to his bombs frequency. If he really felt that his destruction was necessary, then the ship would leave nothing behind.

He opened the door and stepped out. It shut immediately behind him. The impact of the ship had flattened the grass, creating a large clearing circle. The local star was falling, signaling the impending end of the solar cycle.


	8. Face Off

Chapter 8: Face Off

Logan was still approaching the ship. He knew this thing wasn't from this planet, so it must be it's space ship. He was slinking through the long grass, expecting anything past the next row of vegetation.

He finally came upon a huge circle of flattened grass. At the center was the invisible ship. From what he could gather, this was the front. As he slowly approached, the sound of sliding metal sent him back into the grass. He wasn't about to rush into another fight. A large piece of the front was falling down to the ground like a hatch. He watched restlessly as it stepped out in front of him. It had his dog tag around its neck. He would take it back if he had to cut it's head off.

As he exited the ship, he noticed the grass moving at the edge of his clearing. He immediately used the infrared vision to see a heat signature in the moving bushes. It was the creature! He hadn't expected it to come upon his ship. He quickly drew his spear and extended it. He held it behind his head, extended his other arm, and invited his prey forward. He was ready.

The creature rose from the grass, and moved forward almost casually. He put his hands down and stuck the spear vertically in the ground. He stood and waited patiently for it. He had wanted to engage with it respectably. It might as well enjoy it's last battle.

* * *

He hadn't expected to be called out like that. Then again, he hadn't expected to be seen either. He ached to carve the bastard to pieces, but he hadn't fought an honorable fight in a long time. Not since he had challenged his lover's father for her hand. He had lost, but not this time.

He walked up to the monster, about 6 feet away. They circled each other. His claws were at full length, and the monster had his spear. He looked like he'd gotten some new armor too. They turned with each other for a few moments. It stopped, so he stopped. It grabbed it's spear and rushed forward. Logan could only hold up his claws in defense. This thing was faster than he had thought! It jabbed again and again but Logan was able to parry each blow with his claws. Finally the thing pinned the spear against Logan's neck, but he kicked it over his head and send it tumbling into the grass. Now it was his turn.

He charged forward and slashed at it's chest, but it's speed matched his own as he fought to block each swing with the spear. Logan finally got his hands around the spear and began wrestling with the monster for it. He pulled the spear down and slid through it's legs, giving him the perfect opportunity to slash at it's back. He kicked it away from him to the edge of the grass. The creature quickly stood up and made a sound that chilled even Wolverine to the bone. It sounded almost like a lion.

It took the spear and broke it in half over it's knee. Stunned by the feat of strength, Logan could not stop the two pieces from colliding with his chest. He lie on the ground for a moment in agonizing pain. The two ends had stuck into his chest. He grabbed the two ends and ripped them from his own body. He knew this was do or die, and he wasn't about to let anyone out do him at what he does best. He leapt to his feet, ready for anything now. Despite his healing factor, blood was pouring down his chest from the two wounds.

* * *

Damn that creature! Damn him! There was no reason now. All sanity had left his mind. He knew he was entering the Frenzy, but couldn't help himself. He hated this beast more than he had hated anything ever before. This thing was invincible! All the wounds he inflicted healed almost instantly! This was no longer about the pride of his race. To hell with pride! He wanted to win! He wanted to slaughter this creature and paint the jungle red with it's inferior blood! He had been outdone for the last time.

As the beast rose from the throws and removed the spear ends, he unsheathed his own claws to full length. He had more reach and more raw power than this weakling, and now the Frenzy would give him speed. He made a mad charge at the creature and slashed again and again and again. The beast could barely hold him back. The Frenzy would win him the day, and he would mount this beast's head in his trophy case. He slashed from all areas until he was in a position to stab. He got the creature through it's chest. He relished the flow of red blood. The creature stood there in frightened shock. He took his chance and twisted his blade, even stabbing it again. He grabbed the beast by it's shoulder with one arm with the other through it's bleeding stomach. It screamed in pain, and he loved it. He lifted it up above his head and slammed it to the ground. He then fired the blades from his gauntlet, spearing it to the ground. It stopped moving. Red plasma flowed everywhere.

He had done it. He had killed it. After a moment of staring and admiring his kill, he grabbed it by it's head and pulled. He needed the skull and spinal cord. But the creature's skeleton would not budge. After an infuriating moment, he switched to x-ray vision, and was amazed at what he saw. Adamantium laced the human's entire skeletal structure! Impossible!

Now he was pissed. This thing had somehow gotten even faster. What the hell! Now he was pinned to the ground and bleeding everywhere. His stomach burned insanely as it slowly healed around the wounds.

He couldn't move at all because they kept him in place. He waited a second and the monster pulled the claws out, and lifted him over it's shoulder like he was a bag of ice. Which sounded pretty good in this heat. It must've thought he was dead. He felt it walk probably toward it's ship. As soon as he had gathered himself, Logan stabbed the bastard in the back. It roared in unexpected pain and fell to it's knees.

He hopped back off its shoulder to the ground. He grabbed his tag with one hand. "Finders keepers you son of a bitch!" He slashed across the monsters face with his other hand. It fell to the ground as he turned his back to walk away. He refastened the tag around his neck. He finally killed the bastard. He would get back to the village, find the guy with the phone, and give ol' Fury a call. He knew he'd want to know about this.

* * *

He lay there still. For the first time _he_ was playing dead. It was walking away. It thought he was dead. The Frenzy had died down. He opened his eye and realized that his mask wasn't on anymore! He opened his other and saw clearly through the visor. The damn thing had destroyed his mask! He still had one set of claws. It was a mistake to try and take it back to the lab. He knew this thing was regenerative, and that it's skeleton was nearly impenetrable. The Frenzy had, as expected, robbed him of his focus. But now he would get it. He would peel every layer of meat from it's body. He stood up and leapt at the thing.

* * *

As he was walking, he heard rustling in the grass behind him. No way. He heard it say "Son…of…a…BITCH!" just before it tackled him to the ground. It stabbed again and again into his back with its remaining pair of claws. This was really pissing him off.

It must've had its knees in his back because he couldn't move. It kept stabbing into his back, like it was trying to find his heart. It almost did a few times, but Logan finally found the strength to roll over and get to his feet. He was dizzy from the blood loss and the head rush that came with that quick rise. But he was focused enough to get a look at the monster. He had only cut it's mask off. It didn't attack again, but rather just stood there. It ripped it's destroyed mask off bit by bit. It was the ugliest thing Logan had ever seen standing on two legs. Except Sabretooth, of course. It's jaw was separated into four tendril things that opened up to reveal it's mouth.

It moved forward quickly and punched Logan across the face, which sent him down a few feet away. He scrambled to his feet, but it kept coming. It pulled it's claw thing off of it's arm and tried to stab it down his center again. He blocked it with his own claws. It was then that he saw it: a small button on top. It reached for the button with it's finger, but Logan acted faster. He reached up and kicked it's shin, causing it to fall to that knee. It's hand instinctively grabbed it leg and Logan got to his feet. He grabbed the device with one hand and sliced clean through the monsters arm with his other hand. He held the device in his hand. The monster leaked green blood all over from it's arm. It looked up at him and roared. It's mouth spread ugly and wide. "Give it a rest." He stabbed the claws through it's collar bone. After it's roar was silenced, he pressed the button and sent the blades straight through it. It fell flat on it's back.

He kneeled down next to it. He was more tired than he had ever been on this trip. He breathed heavily, listening to the silence around him. He looked over at the creature and saw it's necklace. He didn't know why, but he grabbed it. He just wanted it for a trophy or something. He stood up and looked around. He picked up it's mask that it had thrown down, and one of the spear ends. He had to bring something back to prove he had fought this thing. He strapped the firing device to his arm as he scanned the horizon and realized that the sun was already getting low. He remembered that there was a full moon tonight. Enough light to camp without a fire.

He smelled fresh water. A river wasn't too far from here. Past a few trees about fifty feet away. He made his way toward the river; toward the promise of rest.

* * *

He wasn't dead. Not quite. He had lost nearly all of his blood and his right arm. His left leg was useless. He didn't have much strength left. The wound was more through his chest than his neck, so it wasn't fatal. But he knew he couldn't survive much longer.

He remembered the bomb. He pulled it from his back and set it, punching in each key as best he could with his right arm and his fading vision. After he heard the clicking of the count down, he relaxed. He had lost. He took his death with dignity though. He allowed death to grasp him. With his final thought, he honored his home, his race, his mate and, strangely, his foe.

Logan was making his way to the stream. He thought about what the local newspapers would say about this thing. Everyone knew there were aliens, but this was new.

He was about half way to the tree when he noticed a light behind him. He thought about angels for some reason. Maybe he was dying, and they were coming to bring him to heaven. No such luck. He looked and saw a great big orb of light surrounding the ship. He heard whirring and crackling of electricity. The orb started getting bigger. So naturally, he ran.

He ran as hard as he could against his aching muscles. He heard the crackling growing louder and louder like it was following him. He heard a huge electric blast go off. He finally reached the trees and ran through them. He reached the river and dove in just as he felt a shockwave and saw a bright flash. It wasn't a deep river, but it was deep enough. It wasn't strong either. He stayed under until the blue light above the surface died down.

He swam up and grabbed a log floating by. His breathing was ragged as he looked up to see the tree line… perfectly fine, as well as the grassy clearing and the circle where he had battled. He thought it was a bomb or something. He ran all the way to the river for nothing. He put his head down to rest on the log, and blacked out.

He woke up to prodding at his back. He opened his eyes and realized that he was now in a small wooden boat, like a canoe, wrapped in a blanket. It was night time and the moon was at full brightness. He looked around at his rescuers and realized that they were from the village. He must've floated upstream back toward the town he had left. On one end he saw the old woman he had left his bag with. She held it against her chest until she noticed his open eyes. She quickly moved over and set his bag next to him. She looked at him with a smile. She must've asked a question because her voice raised in what sounded like concern. He didn't know a word of Spanish, so he just nodded. "It's dead." She smiled. He pulled a cigar from the case in his pocket and looked at the man at the other end of the boat. "Got a match?"


	9. New Contact

Chapter 9: New Contact

It had been only a few days. Logan had found the guy with the phone and called Colonel Nick Fury. He was the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.: Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistics Directorate. All he could say was "There's some pretty weird shit down here, Fury. You might want to take a look." A jet had picked him up after the whole village gave him a prayer one at a time. He had a nice long rest on the jet.

When he had awoken again, he was in Fury's office. He had started telling this story almost an hour ago. "Well Fury there you have it. So tell me…" He lit a cigar and put it in his mouth. "Am I crazy?" Fury was a hard-ass with a sense of humor, a rare commodity in S.H.I.E.L.D. "You're as crazy as ever Wolverine. But you're not nuts."

A soldier entered the room and ran up to whisper something to the Colonel. Fury's curiosity had left his one-eyed face and had been replaced with it's usual seriousness. "I see. It seems our visitors have arrived. Let's go meet 'em." Logan put the cigar out in the ashtray as he stood up and followed the soldier out of the room, who was being led by Fury.

After walking what seemed like a mile through the ship, Logan realized something. "Outside? Wait a minute. We're on the helicarrier!" Fury finally stopped at a door, which he opened. They all stepped out onto the deck of the ship, which was thousands of feet in the air, as high as the Empire State building. And waiting for them at the edge of the deck was a glowing white light. Logan thought of angels again.

They walked toward it as another of those monsters stepped out. Logan unsheathed his claws and prepared to lunge before Fury held him back and shook his head. The colonel whistled to the soldier who had followed them. He went back inside. "We call 'em Predators. Aliens who hunt throughout the universe for the greatest kill. They've been here before. And it looks like their most recent hunt was a failure." Nick looked impressed at Logan.

The soldier reappeared with a few others pushing what looked like a hovering bed. It was carrying the one he had killed. It was as ugly as ever even with a white sheet covering it's wounds. Fury said "We found him down in the clearing you told us about. Seems that "bomb" was set to implode rather than explode. The ship and the device collapsed in on themselves." Logan asked "He screwed it up?" Fury replied "No. It was intentional." The soldiers walked it over to the light and left it. More Predators appeared out of the light and retrieved their fallen comrade and disappeared back into the light.

This Predator in front of them was a lot bigger than the one he had fought. It was wearing gold armor, and had a large red cape. It didn't have it's mask on, which showed off all of it's battle scars, and tribal markings. It definitely looked older. Logan remembered the mask. He had given the spear to Fury's people to analyze. Fury nudged Logan from behind. He said "Go say hello" as he lit his own cigar and put it between his teeth. He walked up slowly to this thing towering over him. It must've been at least 8 feet tall.

They stared at each other before he presented the mask to the Predator captain, who took it. He then remembered the necklace. He held his hand up and let it fall while holding on to one end. The Predator looked at it before taking it. After taking it, he took Logan's hand and pressed the necklace into his palm. Logan nodded, and the Predator turned around and entered back into the light. Just then a huge ship materialized around the light of it's door hatch, which closed, and the ship sped off.

Logan looked at the necklace. He thought about the battle and how long and hard he fought. He tied it around his neck with the dog tag and looked out into the sunset, made even more brilliant by the green jungle below. Fury came up behind him and breathed deeply. "Nice sunset. Haven't really seen one of these in a long time." "Yup." Logan pulled another cigar from his pocket & lit it. " Hey Fury, you know a guy named Dutch?" Fury looked at him quizzically before answering. "Sorry Logan. Classified." Logan blew a plume of smoke out of the side of his mouth. "Aint it always." The two stood there and watched the sun set over the rain forest.


	10. Epilogue, A New Threat

Epilogue

_Just a note: this is not required reading for this story. I just wanted something to connect this to my next story_._ Keep the universe going._

As much as Logan loved being out of that hot jungle, his squeaky-clean cabin on the helicarrier was no picnic either. Everything was so… _sterilized_. And his hearing picked up the sound of the massive engines; a constant low whirring. And the constant clanking of boots hitting the metal floors. There was no smoking allowed on the helicarrier either. Fury being the exception that _enforces_ the rule. The fluorescent lights were annoying to his eyes that were so used to seeing daylight. The only peace he could find was out on the deck, but that was usually busy with choppers, jets, and storms that would come and go.

Other than that, there was the training room where the soldiers fought, lifted, and trained. With not much else to do he usually stayed in there and gave the kids a show. When the crowds got a bit too large he'd shine a bit of adamantium their way, and send them packing.

He had looked over the Predator's necklace at least a dozen times. It's loop was fur. It still smelled of the cat it had once been. The cat's teeth and claws were separated evenly around the loop. In the center on the front was a small skull; a lizard by the look of it. He threw the teeth and claws he had collected over the side of the helicarrier; sending them back to nature. After ten minutes of staring at the necklace he threw it into his bag and stalked down the hall toward the training room. He needed to let off some steam.

* * *

About two days after their unexpected guest, he finally got through the paperwork. Logan's encounter with the Predator was not kind to Colonel Fury's schedule. There were always aliens coming and going, but if they ever came into contact with anyone it was _he_ who had to sort out all the paperwork. Gag orders, compensations for civilian interference, proof of incident papers, and autopsies. ALL to be filled out by him, and promptly too.

Fury rubbed his forehead. He was closing in on 100 years old. When he toured in World War II he was gravely wounded by a landmine in France. He was discovered and taken to a Professor Berthold Sternberg, who injected Fury with his Infinity Formula, which slowed down the aging process. Thinking about it reminded him; he needed to mark on his calendar when to take it again. He was forced to take it annually to keep the process going.

He had finally filled out the last of the forms, and lit one of his cigars. There was no smoking on the helicarrier, but nobody dared call him on it. He was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and S.H.I.E.L.D. built the helicarrier. As he puffed away, he couldn't stop thinking about the old days. He had been part of the best squadron on the front line; the Howling Commandoes. All the good he and his friends had done made him proud to be a soldier, even if he did have to fill out paperwork every week or so.

After a minute of thinking, decided to go see Wolverine. He had been on the ship two days and didn't even know where he was going. He checked his sidearm, ensuring it had a full magazine. He was always prepared for the worst. The helicarrier had been attacked before, and it could be again. He locked his office door as he left. He walked down the hallways toward Logan's room, and found it empty. A soldier was passing by as he left the room. "Soldier!" The boy stopped and saluted. "Sir?"

Like every new recruit, he stared at his eye. He hated when people stared at his eye patch. He had lost an eye in WWII. He sighed. "Where's Wolverine?" The soldier looked backward anticipated, like he was waiting to go to the bathroom. "He's in the training room, Sir." Fury mentally smacked himself. He knew Logan better than most people. Of course he'd be in the training room. "As you were soldier." "Yes Sir." The soldier continued running down the hall.

Fury kept up a pace behind him and followed him all the way to the training room, where a huge crowd was watching something. He cleared his throat. They all turned around and made a hole. Even after 50 years as a commanding officer, he still enjoyed doing that. He saw that the crowd was staring at Logan, who was tearing his way through the Danger Room; a little piece of tech picked up from Professor Xavier's "School for Gifted Youngsters."

He hadn't seen Wolverine fight in quite a while. Still just as savage as ever. Claws ripping and tearing at everything. The hologram robots didn't stand a chance. He saw the danger level up to maximum. The crowd was still watching through the view window. "Alright, show's over! Back to work!" The crowd dispersed immediately. He turned the danger level off and stopped the robots. He looked through the window at Wolverine and pressed the intercom. "Logan, let's talk."

* * *

Wasn't that just like Fury to spoil a good time. Logan picked his jacket up off the floor. It was one of the replacements he had in his bag. He had thrown it off during the fight. He slipped his claws back in and left the Danger Room. He'd have to tell Fury to make the maximum level tougher. He had barely broken a sweat.

He stepped out to see Fury sitting on one of the exercise machines. He took a seat on the one next to him. "What do you want?" Old Fury's glare never changed, whether he was talking to foe _or_ friend. "Where do you want to get off? We both know you can't stay here forever. And I don't think our Danger Room can take it." Fury joked. Logan tilted his neck and cracked it. He hadn't really thought about it. He was fed up with nature for a while, and needed a good bar. And he kind of wanted to see Chuck & his kids again. Now he had a new story to tell them. After staring into space for a minute he looked at Fury. "Well the best bar I know is in New York City." Fury nodded. "The Big Apple it is." They both stood up. He followed Fury out of the training room into the hall. "Wake me when we get there. I'm gonna catch some shut-eye." With that, Logan walked down the hallway to his cabin. He kept the lights off. He looked at the bed: cold, stuffy, starched, and sterile. He had slept on it for two days, and still hated it. He opened his bag and pulled a blanket out, laying it on the ground next to the bed. He put his duffel at one end and laid down on it. He pulled his jacket off and covered himself with it. He slowly drifted off to sleep. He didn't have many dreams. They were all nightmares. A blank sleep was better than none at all.

* * *

As he and Wolverine parted ways, his vibrating beeper went off. He looked at it. Even with one eye he had eagle vision and could hit a target at 300 yards. The message read S.D. He knew that stood for Space Department, and headed down the hall opposite Wolverine. The Space Department monitored anything happening in the planet's atmosphere above flying height. As he walked he wondered what the disturbance could be. It was probably just a meteor breaking in the atmosphere, or a satellite going off course. These things were everyday problems; nothing to worry about. Then his beeper vibrated twice. This time the message read URGENT. He took off running. Meteor shower? A rip in space or time? Or could it have been his worst fear: Galactus?

He arrived in the S.D. moments later. "Lieutenant Blake, what in blazes is going on?" The female soldier at the computer screen saluted. "Sir! There's something entering our atmosphere & it's not breaking up!" Fury prepared for the worst. "How big is it?" "It took out one of our satellites on its way down, so we have to channel from another one. Scanners say it's about the size of a two-story building." "Damnation! That could take out 3 city blocks! How fast is it going and where's it headed?" "It's headed for New York City and… wait a minute…it's slowing down, Sir. The atmosphere isn't breaking it, but it's slowing it down." "What in blue blazes is it?" He stared in awe at the screen. The feed was fuzzy because it was coming in from a distant satellite. It was visibly slowing down. "It looks… organic, Sir." "Organic?! You mean that thing is alive?" "It has an interior heat signature, and it's not mineral, Sir." Fury growled and clenched his teeth hard enough to bite his cigar in half. "Can we shoot it down?" "No Sir. No satellite will be in range in time to safely destroy it." "Damn it all to Hell!" He slammed his fist on the desk and breathed a few long breathes to calm down. "How long do we have until it reaches New York airspace?" The lieutenant punched in the calculating keys hard and fast. He saw her tense as she read the figures to him. "Just under 10 hours, Sir."

Fury leapt into action. He knew the helicarrier couldn't make it to New York in twice the time he had. He grabbed the radio in the room and adjusted it to call the Air Force Division and screamed into it. "Lieutenant Spears!" A young voice answered back. "Yes Sir!" "I want a goddamn F-35 on this ship and ready to go to New York City ten minutes ago! You got that?" "Sir! Yes Sir!" He threw the radio down and ran to the door. "Lieutenant Blake! Call the U.N. into emergency session! Codename is Eagle Eye 1. Code is Alpha Bluebird Capricorn!" He didn't even wait for her to salute before he dashed out and down the hall at top speed. He spat out the cigar butt in his mouth as he ran.

* * *

He was in the water tank. There were doctors standing over him. He felt needles in his skin everywhere. His whole body burned from the inside. He felt the claws come out, and his blood filled the tank, clouding his vision in red.

He sat bolt upright in a cold sweat. He was in his cabin on the helicarrier. Red lights and a siren were going off everywhere. "Son of a bitch" he said drowsily. First a nightmare, now an emergency. Fury opened his door. "Up and at 'em, Wolverine! We're hittin' the Big Apple NOW, before something else does!" He packed his stuff in his bag and followed Fury at a demon's pace to the deck as an F-35 landed. So much for a little shut-eye.


End file.
